


Later breakfast

by knaveofmogadore



Category: The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 03:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14252184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knaveofmogadore/pseuds/knaveofmogadore
Summary: Gross domestic Jadam fluff several or two or one year down the line, its vague and I just needed to write sleepy cuddles this morning ft. The Best Dog





	Later breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed to write something soft this morning so I cranked this out in forty minutes goodnight

Adam stretches his legs as slowly as he can so as not to wake John. A gentle exhale and a tightening of arms around him as he buries himself more into the junction of John's shoulder and neck. He shivers as hands ghost over his waist. 

“Did I wake you,” mumbled against John's skin. 

“Did you ever get to sleep?”

Adam shakes his head quietly without lifting it. He could hear John's frown from where he was hiding. 

“Sometimes it's still hard, even with you.”

Adam felt more than heard John's sigh. So many feelings in a breath, and none of them disappointment. He shivers more when John's hands, warned with his lumen and with just enough pressure to comfort, start massaging his back over his shirt. He tightens his hold on John in response. 

“You could have woken me up,” he grumbled. John's voice was so low from sleep that Adam could feel it in his chest, his bare back. 

“You were sleeping so peacefully I didn't want to.”

John hums in response and pulls him even closer. His hands rest between his shoulder blades and over his lower back. Adam could feel his breath more than the kiss his presses into his hair. 

“What time is it?” 

Adam finally lifts his head just enough to squint at their much abused alarm clock. 

“About six am.”

In response John grunted and kissed his cheek, his temple, his hair. He got the hint and returned to his heaven in John's shoulder. 

“You didn't sleep at all.”

The concern in John's voice grated against something in his chest, but Adam shoved it aside. They were past useless guilt now. 

“I dozed a little.”

He grunts in response and holds him steadfast when he tries to get up. In all fairness Adam really did not try. John was warm, his body slotted against his perfectly, his chest and shoulder a better pillow than moving would be. His hands rubbing circles into his back and the new heaviness in his eyes pulled him farther from getting out of bed. 

“Just stay with me a few more hours,” John whispers, uselessly, so useless, Adam already didn't want to leave. He doubted he would ever want to move again. 

“Till eight, maybe nine, then you can get up with me.” 

He let him go on so he could hear his voice. It rumbled underneath him and pressed against his ear. John's voice soothed something in Adam’s chest, something painful and panicky and erratic. He had stayed awake so it would not wake John, and now that it's gone all he wanted was to sleep. All he wanted was to fall asleep to the rise and fall of his sleep hoarse voice and wake up to that voice and hear that voice all day long when he did. 

Adam's eyes closed to the feeling of him still talking, words that at this point meant barely anything as John nodded off. He slipped off somewhere pleasant and warm and so very _John_ that it was a wonder he ever felt anything else in the first place. 

…..

Adam, at ten in the morning, had a cramp in his neck all the way up to his chin. He shifted his jaw and rolled his shoulder trying to ease it up. Sometime between falling asleep and now he had fallen to John's side, and the comfortable position they had fallen asleep in turned into a trap of limbs and sweaty cramps. He blinked against John's hair in his face and shifted back onto the pillow. Sunlight streamed through their curtains and over John's plants, muted and gentle even this late in the morning. 

It took Adam several minutes to get up the will to leave the bed. Maybe ten. Maybe fifteen. The blankets were soft and John was warm and he was warm and the morning air still had a chill to it. He almost laughs at himself, going from living in the arctic a few short years ago to whining about a little draft. It took him another fifteen minutes after that to figure out which limbs were his and which were John's. Another few to pull himself free. 

Adam almost takes the blanket from John when his feet touch their freezing hardwood. A blanket is something Adam needs more than John “I am my own space heater” Smith, but he leaves it. Not only would untangling it be more trouble than it was worth, but John has already curled into the empty space he was leaving. It felt cruel to not only take himself but the blanket too. 

Moving from their bedroom to the kitchen is not by any means the coldest Adam has ever been. It is not the most uncomfortable he has been even this week, thanks to therapy, but some part of it deeply sucked. Maybe it was the extra hours spent in bed that made it harder to leave. Maybe it was the fact that he was only wearing an old t-shirt; and boxers that were so short on him that they had to be John's.

Moving around the kitchen is easier than getting there. Grabbing pans, turning things on, excavating eggs and milk and pancake mix from their Jenga tower of a fridge are all things he could do blind with one limb. He tried to be quiet, but John needed to wake up anyway, and there is only so long that the smell of food cooking does not wake up everyone in a tiny apartment. It was the eggs that drew him out, after the pancakes were done. It's always the eggs. 

Adam didn't flinch when John's arms wrapped around him from behind. His chin rested on his shoulder and he sighs over Adam's ear. He shifts back and laughs against the space between his shoulder blades at finally getting his boyfriend to squirm. He is still shirtless, still in a pair of Adam's pants so old that holes have been trampled into the hem that covers John's feet. 

“Morning, sunshine, light of my life, my everything, my dark star-”

“One pancake, you animal.”

Adam can hear and feel and _knows_ the grin against his back like his own heart in his chest. He rolls his eyes when John reaches around him and pulls a steaming pancake off the top of the stack and walks around the kitchen eating it. He swallows a laugh too, knowing that encouraging John's hungry antics will only end up in him eating his entire breakfast that way. 

Almost as if summoned by Adam's comment more than the food BK drags himself into the kitchen. The chimaera is a worse morning person than the actual people. Adam set a colder plate of eggs down by his feet and scooped the scrambled ones onto a plate from the pan. Then he threatened John with the spatula for trying to take some with his fingers. 

It was any other breakfast, two hours late.

**Author's Note:**

> I hhhhhhate posting from mobile I can't put all of my shitty tags


End file.
